Page 245 of My Rules

He pulls up a chair and sits down. We stare at each other, and it’s still there.

The stars, the sky, and the moon. Electricity bounces between us.

And now I know that it’s real, because I’ve been with other people, and this wasn’t there with them.

He’s wearing a gray suit and a cream shirt. His hair has a bit of a curl to it, but it’s his beautiful face that I’ve dearly missed.

“What do you want to see me about?” he asks.

“I . . .”

Fuck.

“I wanted to tell you that my divorce has gone through.”

His eyes hold mine.

“And I’m selling the house.”

He stays silent. I know he hasn’t heard this from anyone else, because I purposely haven’t told a soul. I wanted him to hear it from me and me only.

“And ... that you were right.”

A frown flashes across his face. “About what?”

“Everything.”

He nods softly, as if acknowledging my failures.

“I . . .” I shrug.

“Go on,” he prompts me.

“At the time we were together, I wasn’t emotionally in the right place for our relationship, and you have every right to hate me.”

His eyes drop to my lips and then dart back up to my eyes. “I don’t hate you, Rebecca.”

“I deserve it; it’s okay.” I shrug.

The bartender interrupts us. “What will it be?”

“I’ll have a margarita,” I say. I turn to Blake. “Do you have time for one drink?”

His eyes hold mine.

“As a friend, nothing more.”

“Sure, make that two.”

We fall into an uncomfortable silence.

“I want to apologize for what happened between us,” I tell him.

His eyes hold mine.

“I said some terrible things that I didn’t mean, and ...” I shrug. “I know why you left.”

He stays silent, as if processing every word I’m saying.

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